


Underneath the Sand Mask

by Hairi_Esh_Mooncake



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Bullying, Dark Past, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, M/M, Mental Healing, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hairi_Esh_Mooncake/pseuds/Hairi_Esh_Mooncake
Summary: When they first meet, Gaara threatens him with an ice cream cone. Naruto believes it was meant to be.





	1. One's mirth, another's nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, as you might have seen from the tags, this story is going to be heavy on addressing mental issues, mainly anxiety. I have been meaning to write a story like this for a while but hadn't thought of a plot or a pairing until this point. I don't know how smooth this story is going to be but I know where it is going.
> 
> Warnings: I put it Mature now, because I don't know if I want to go for Explicit yet, but, it's possible. If it comes to Explicit, then it'd be also in regards to violence, explicit descriptions of panic attacks and intimate moments. The smut will come a lot later, as, you'll see, Gaara is in no state of mind for something like that right now. 
> 
> What you will **not** see in this story is rape. So rest assured. 
> 
> I welcome you to join me on this mental healing journey and hopefully you find it interesting.

He hated interacting with people.

He was indifferent, to people, as individuals, but that only lasted as long as he didn’t have to get involved with them.

He lived by his own pace; be it school or home, he mostly kept to himself with minimal exposure to the human interactions and he was _fine_ with it. It was the safest way for him to live. And while most of the time his wishes of being left alone were being respected, there would come a time when he would be forced to have a face-to-face with humanity.

A moment like this one.

He could feel the back of his tank top clinging to his body from the cold sweat his body had produced the moment he stepped foot in the hell place that was _Akatsuki Amusement Park._

There were people _everywhere._

Left and right crowds upon crowds of people were rushing about, skipping and laughing, _loudly,_ while he couldn’t make his foot move past the barrier of the entrance gate.

This was hell. And he only had his siblings to blame for this torture.

If it had been his choice, he would have never stepped foot in a place like this, but apparently his older brother forgot to bring his inhaler with him before leaving and his sister wasn’t asnwering her phone. He was adamant on staying home but then his father threatened to remove the lock from his bedroom doors and that was a more terrifying thought than he could handle.

So here he was, frozen in place, staring at the brightly lit words and cursing the world around him.

“One ticket,” he muttered in a quiet deep voice, standing by the cashier. The flinch he got in return when the young lady brought her eyes to him was nothing new. When he was younger, he could get away with being a moody creepy kid. Nowadays, as a teenager of fifteen years he rather looked like a drug dealer, if not someone involved in murder.

He narrowed his dark coal painted eyes at the girl’s shaky hand as she passed him the ticket.

As long as she didn’t touch him, he didn’t care.

Snatching the ticket, he scurried away, weaving through the crowds of people until he came out in a clearing of sorts.

As a shriek reached his sensitive ears, he had to suppress the initial body shiver. He hated being here. He wanted to leave. _Now._

Taking a few calming breaths, that usually did little to calm him, he looked around to get a better sense of the overall place. When he said he avoided crowds, he was being truthful. The last time he was in a place even remotely similar to this, was when he was six. A lot had changed since then, and he felt unsure how to even proceed to search for his siblings in a mass of people like this.

He opened his phone once again and pressed on the call button as his eyes spotted the map.

He was nearest to the place called _The Forest of Death_. What a morbid name, he thought. He decided to start there, since it was also close to the stage with the shows and he knew his sister loved that glittery nonsense.

Surprisingly (not really) he found his siblings by the ice cream cart. His thumb pressed on the call button from spite as he watched his oblivious sibling flirt with the raven haired punk kid by the counter.

He snapped the phone shut with a force.

Marching towards his siblings, he watched how the crowd slightly parted where he went, allowing him to reach the duo without awkward stumbling into strangers.

“Temari,” he called her in a low voice. He startled her, he knew, but he couldn’t care less.

“G-Gaara! What’re you doing here, lil bro?” she asked in a semi-cheery voice. The pretence was making him sick. His eyes darted at the raven boy who was back to serving his other customers with a bored look on his face. This was stupid. He wasn’t even looking at her.

Before he could open his mouth, though, ice cream cone was suddenly thrust into his hand. He stared at the object owlishly, while his sister went to exchange a few last words with the raven punk. Glaring, but still stubbornly holding onto the ice cream, Gaara regarded his brother.

“Inhaler,” he simply said. He thought it unneccesary to elaborate because as soon as the word left his mouth, Kankurou started patting his pockets and, of course, finding them empty.

“Seriously? How could you forget your inhaler, Kankurou?” Temari said in a chidding voice while also backhanding the back of his head.

“Aww, Temari. You were in a rush so I didn’t notice.”

“Don’t push your failure on me, idiot.”

Having about enough, Gaara pulled the offending item from his pocket and pushed it straight into Temari’s arms. She barely managed to keep hold of it. “I’m leaving,” he announced and turned to leave before suddenly his siblings blocked his path.

He glared at them.

“Eh, Gaara, you could stay you know? It’s going to be fun. And thank you for bringing Kankurou his inhaler. I know how hard it must have been for you-“

At those words he snapped. “I didn’t do it for you,” he said, darkly. “The next time you don’t asnwer your phone, I’m going to pretend I don’t see as you suffocate to death.”

There was a stunned silence as his siblings’ faces blanched.

He didn’t wait for their response, he made a circle around their frozen forms and sprinted from the hell place as fast as was possible without actually running.

***

He should have left. That’s what he wanted from the start. But somehow the tacky words sparked a momentary interest in him. Not many knew of this, but for him being interested in something was not only rare but also only lasted about half an hour at most. He used such moments as experiments on his body, searching for ways it had affected his daily life.

It never did.

As soon as the expected time passed, he would go back to being impasive and not caring if the thing that interested him a few seconds ago ceased to exist for ever.

He pushed his hand against the gate of _The Forest of Death_ and walked in.

Judging by the faraway shouting he supposed the _fun_ was located further in, and he somehow managed to find the more abandoned side of the forest. He looked up at the tall trees swaying from the wind and could only think how meaningless and boring it all looked.

He averted his eyes and scanned the place for something to do.

His hand twitched and suddenly he remembered that one of his hands were occupied. Looking down at the dripping strawberry ice cream he could only scowl. He thought about dropping the thing right there and then but then realized he didn’t have any tissues and somehow having a dripping ice cream in his hand seemed more logical than a sticky empty hand. It was a flawed logic, but he refused to question himself on it.

It was then, when he spotted a rusty old pair of swings; only one of them in a good enough state to be sat on.

Perfect. It looked miserable enough for him to make use of it, he thought, and went towards it.

He felt awkward. The ice cream was starting to slide down his thumb and disappear somewhere inside his sleeve. It was disgusting. Still, he refused to move from his spot on the half-broken swings as he stared emptily at the shadows of the forest.

The occasional faraway yells ceased to bother him the moment he realized they wouldn’t be coming close to him.

As he sat there, a part of him was waiting, as always, for something to happen and wisk him away from the miserable existence that his life was but another part of him fiercely fought to silence any upcoming change. He didn’t need change. He needed peace. Something he never got, because as much as he wanted to create a bubble around himself, there were always people stumbling in his path to remind him of how different his life could be, if only he tried.

Well, he didn’t.

He knew something was wrong with him. Something engraved deep inside him. Something he had slowly nurtured since the fateful _incident_ when he was six years old and only gotten worse through the years, but he had no energy in him to fix it. His father didn’t care. His siblings avoided him without his own promting – he didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

A brach snapped nearby.

Tensing, he felt his grip on the cone tighten as he waited for the inevitable living being to disturb his peace.

One moment, two and then there was a short yelp, a rustling of something tumbling and Gaara’s eyes witnessed just in time as a ball of orange came crashing from the slope of the small hill somewhere on the near vicinity of his right.

The lump of orange stayed still on the ground.

Then it breathed and quickly sat up. “Awch, that hurt!” the loud shriek pierced sharply through his ears and Gaara had an unmistakeable need to shut it, violently.

While the orange suited _boy_ was still distracted, Gaara eyed him warily. The jumpsuit was hideous. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like that in the market. Not like he was a casual customer himself to really know, but… Then was the hair. Spikes of yellow did him no more favours than the tacky outfit. Add to that his obnoxious voice and Gaara was certain he wanted nothing to do with him, ever.

Using the opportunity while the boy was still distracted by his scrapes and bruises, Gaara let himself fall from the swing and proceeded to leave.

He didn’t get far.

Out of nowhere there was a hand clamping on his shoulder and he felt dread pool in his stomach. Waves of fear and panic started to consume him when suddenly the spell was broken by a voice spoken in his ear. “Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?”

It worked like a trigger. Somehow the words broke him free from his seizing panic and he swirled around, taking the boy by surprise as he twisted his arm and slammed his cheek into the swing rod, a _weapon_ poking him in the vein on the neck.

He saw red. He couldn’t hear. His breathing got laboured as he kept his firm hold on the blond. While he wasn’t physically strong, he knew he had a raw _survival’s strength_. His nails must have punctured the boy’s skin because he felt the body undernearth him shift. Then suddenly his hearing was back and he had to flinch back at the indignant shouting of the blond. “Let me go, you bastard! Face me head on.”

Black ringed eyes narrowed at the struggling blond, then suddenly he was flailing and falling face down on the ground as the redhead abruptly let go of him.

Huffing, he twirlled around. “What the hell is your deal!? Oi-“

He didn’t know why the other boy suddenly stopped his yelling.

While it was a blessing, his widened azure blues made him feel awkward to be stared at that intensely. He shifted on his feet. He wanted him to stop doing that. He tried to glare him into submission but the boy seemed immune. He kept staring.

It was unnerving.

Just when he thought he couldn’t feel more awkward, the blond had to open his mouth. “Hey.. is that an ice cream cone… the one you were poking my neck with?” He touched his neck to where Gaara’s pathetic excuse of a _weapon_ had been a few moments ago, and grinned.

Gaara had a sudden urge to test out the limitations of physics by proving he could shove the ice cream cone into the blond’s neck if he so wished to.

His hand, the one which still occupied the now mostly empty cone, was soaking wet.

It was humiliating. The blond was laughing at him. He wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, but as luck would have it, the only thing he posessed on him right now was the stupid ice cream his sister had absentmindedly shoved in his hands. He was going to murder his sister later for this but before that he had to do something about the still happily grinning boy.

Glancing at the cone, then back at the blond, he made a quick (horrible) judgement call, and threw the cone in the blond’s face.

It bounced back and fell on the ground.

There was a moment of stunned silence where both set of eyes just watched each other in astonishment before the grin on the blond’ face grew impossible wide and he started chuckling then outright guffawing while holding onto his stomach.

He wanted to disappear. At that moment he really wanted the ground to just swallow him whole and without further thought he turned and made to dash out of the forest.

Unfortunately, the blond’s voice still reached his back. “Hey, tell me your name! I’m Uzumaki Naruto.”

“Not interested,” he managed to say through gritted teeth before his back finally disappeared through the gates.

 

***

His father threw a short glance at him as he returned home, asking if he passed the inhaler to Kankurou. He hated his father for creating this situation for him. He barely muttered an affirmitive before dashing upstairs in the safety of his own room.

As soon as his feet led him inside the room, he quickly made his way towards his desk, to the chair which held Mr. Cuddles; he grabbed it. With the plushie in hand, he then scanned the room, taking a moment to stare at the left corner by the window, after quickly rejecting it, he then pulled the blanket straight from the bed, bunching it into a ball and stood there.

He took a breath in. One. Two.

He felt the blood starting to rush to his head, his hands clamming up.

He needed a safe spot. Somewhere where he could calm down. But the corner by the window no longer provided him the usual comfort. It had expired its use.

Clenching his eyes shut he stood in the middle of the room for a few minutes longer until his eyes drifted away towards the wall pillar, protruding from the otherwise even wall. His breath stopped for a moment. And then he was moving straight for the narrow space between the wardrobe and the back of his bed. He slid his back down the wall. It was a perfect fit.

He could breathe again.

* * *

_**to be continued...** _


	2. Between silence and noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaara gets into a few more awkward situations and the culprit is the same orange wearing blond he wished to never have to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are things I like about this chapter, and things that I don't. I will leave for you to judge.

 He woke up at the sound of someone banging on the doors.

At first, he startled, disoriented, until his vision came back to focus and he saw the end of his bed staring at him. He frowned at it until he remembered falling asleep like that yesterday. The sharp ache in his neck and other joints told him it wasn’t his best idea. His drenched in sweat clothes only proved the point further.

He tossed the suffocating blanket away.

There was more knocking on the door, then rattling of the doorknob and Gaara froze. He searched his mind for comfirmation that he managed to lock his doors yesterday, but couldn’t find the answer and had to suffer another few moments of mild panic before realizing the doors weren’t opening. He waited, standing still.

His sister’s voice echoed from the other side of the doors. She huffed _Again?_ followed by a louder shout directed to the occupants downstairs. _“He locked the door again! I can’t go in but he probably heard me.”_

No, he didn’t, he thought. But he could guess it was about him getting up and coming to eat breakfast. He wasn’t hungry. He hardly ever was. It was more of a chore to him than anything.

His joints felt stiff, but the desire to stretch was mild, so he ignored it. He padded through the room towards the bathroom. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he had to grimace at the sunken eyes and dark shadows under them. There was also smears of previous day’s make up on his face. Pale face and coal black eyes… he looked like a character from a dracula movie. Expect the vampires looked more healthy than him. If he had the capacity to appreciate humour, he probably would have found it ironic. He didn’t. Pulling onto the skin of his cheek, he let it stretch.

_What an unpleasant face._

Splashing his face clean, he proceeded to add an extra layer around his eyes to hide the dark shadows. When the black ringed eyes stared back at him from the mirror, he felt better, if only a little. The rings hid perfectly what he didn’t want to be seen.

***

When he reached downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to see his _family_ already having started eating without him. It was a frequent occurrence. Probably because seeing him made them lose apetite somehow. He didn’t see how it was his problem.

He picked the spoon to eat his cereal while pointedly ignoring his siblings’ attempts to hide their discomfort at having him by the table.

He glanced at his father who had the laptop on the table with its screen pointedly blocking the youngest son from his view. He didn’t care. It was just annoying to have his head bump into the edge of the monitor every time he tried to take a sip. After five such attempts he gave up, pushing the food away. He stood up without saying anything and made his way towards the entrance, putting his shoes on.

“Makes sure he gets to school,” his father’s voice sounded from the kitchen. By _he_ he meant Gaara. The name _Gaara_ repulsed him, he had once said. Tying his shoelaces he pretended he didn’t hear his siblings’ complains about having to follow him around. He was prepared to go alone, maybe this time for sure, but his father somehow managed to work a system where he pushed Temari and Kankurou to always go to school together. Otherwise he would never step foot in there.

He briefly glanced at the two of them as they came into the hallway and walked through the doors ahead of them. He could hear curses behind him and flailing of hurried dressing.

He didn’t care.

***

As the gates of Suna High appeared in his vision, he knew he had to prepare himself. School was hard in that way that he couldn’t completely avoid people. It was like a full time amusement park with people running around hallways and brushing your shoulders without looking back. He managed to trick himself into thinking that there was an invisible wall between them and him and if he just ignored their whole existence, it’d all end sooner.

It worked, most of the time. If someone unwanted, which qualified as _anyone,_ tried to speak to him, he would just glare at them and they would leave him alone. The _Ultimate Defence_ his siblings called it mockingly. That’s why on the regular Monday, that this day was, he expected nothing different. He would suffer his way through the classes and then go back to the safe confines of his room.

The commotion inside the hallway should have been his first sign.

Because he usually ignored such things, he didn’t even think to take a cautious look around as his siblings disscussed the transfering students from Konoha High. He walked towards his locker and only managed to open it before a familiar shriek reached his ears.

“AH! I know you!” the voice said, and Gaara prayed it was a nightmare which he was yet to wake up from. “Ice cream cone,” it then said and he felt the upcoming need to disappear. He heard murmurs behind his back, and he knew the only shield between him and the curious eyes were the still open locker of his. But that wouldn’t last. Soon there would be people and questions and… he needed to get out of here.

Slamming the locker with force, he made a mad dash towards the stairs to where his classroom was located at, but not without hearing his _nickname_ being called once more.

***

He counted the small blessings. Such as him having the very last seat by the window. It was located far away from any other rows and the seat before him had been emptied a month ago because the student transferred. He felt safe with the distance he had from the other students.

He stared blankly as their Math teacher, ten minutes late into the lesson, finally emerged from the sliding doors.

“You’re late!” the chorus of voices greeted him, and Hatake Kakashi replied in his usual lame wit. Gaara just tuned them out. His Math teacher was a peculiar being. While it was weird enough for him to be teaching both PE and Math, he also had a weird look; half of his face was covered in a mask, for reasons unknown. When asked, he would joke about having a hideous face and wanting to protect the students from being scarred to death, but nobody really believed that. Not that it mattered. He was only mildly interested in the prospect of walking around with a mask on his face. But when he asked the teacher if he could use one of his own, he was rejected. The system was unfair like that.

“I hope you all did your homework,” Kakashi said to the class cherily.

He didn’t.

Staring at the blank sheets of his notebook, Gaara wondered if there was ever a chance of him completing it. It probably wasn’t. While he was clever enough, he had no motivation to do the work and as long as he wasn’t caught, he could live like that.

His attention momentary shifted back to Kakashi when he announced a new transfer student.

He already didn’t like the idea.

His eyes drifted towards the empty seat in front of him and silently mourned the loss of it.

As long as the person in front of him kept to themselves, he could handle their presence.

As the teacher called _his_ name Gaara thought he didn’t hear him right. While apparently he shared the same school as the loud brat from yesterday, there was no reason for him to also share the _classroom._

As luck would have it, the blond strode inside the classrom with a stupid grin on his face, wearing the same orange suit as yesterday. “Yo, everyone! I’m Uzumaki Naruto. You better remember that. I love ramen and hate complicated math problems. Let’s get along.” As the classroom joined him in with the chuckles, Gaara was brought back to his own problem at hand. He tried to find a way to disappear and be unseen, but holding his arm before his face only backfired for him in the worst way when Kakashi, thinking he wanted to ask a question, put the class’ attention towards him. Including the blond.

“Ah! There you are! I finally found you, Ice Cream Cone.”

 _Ice Cream Cone? What’s that? It’s so funny._ Whispers started among the classroom and the hand that held the pencil nearly snapped it in two.

“Oh? So you know Gaara-kun? Why don’t you go sit in the seat before him.”

The pencil snapped in two.

“Got it, boss,” Naruto exclaimed an affirmitive and casually went for the seat, dropping the backpack unceremoniously on the ground and turned ninety degrees in his seat.

By that time Gaara had already adjusted his stance, and was back to staring straight ahead, teal orbs glaring at the grinning blond.

“Yo,” he waved at him. “So, Gaara, huh? Nice name. I was wondering how to call out to you, since you didn’t give me your name, but then I remembered the ice cream cone and it was just so funny-“ No, it wasn’t. “-so I called out to you but then you ran away again and-“ He really had to _stop_ talking before Gaara had to commit a crime in public. “-people started to speak to me so I lost you sadly, but then, what do you know, we’re in the same classroom! It must be fate.” _Yes, my fate to murder you_ , the redhead thought as he glared at the chatterbox and willed him to shut the hell up. Their classmates kept glancing at the two of them curiously, and it was just a matter of time before Kakahi also noticed them-

“Are we disturbing you, Naruto? Gaara?”

Gaara pointedly turned his head to stare at the window and left the blond to fend for himself.

“Ehh, well if you’re asking me honestly…”

“I advice you to think carefully before answering that,” Kakashi warned him and at Naruto’s yelp the classroom started to chuckle.

It would end soon. _No, it won’t,_ his mind unhelpfully supplied. But at least this _day_ would end soon. And after that, he could blackmail his way into transfering schools. Somehow. But then he would have to be the _new kid_ and that was just terrifying. His eyes once again found the back of the blond’s head and he wished he could set it on fire. Maybe in the chemistry class.

“Well then,” Kakashi was once again speaking to class. “We’re now going to revise a few similar problems that your homework consisted of. Be ready to write it down.”

“Eh, but I don’t have anything, Kakashi-sensei!” the blond yelled out protestingly.

The teacher sighed. “Ask Gaara-kun to share. Now then,” he simply said and went back to write it on the board.

As the azure blues connected with his narrowed teals, Gaara dared him to even attempt to take a peek at his notebook. He dared. The tanned hand slowly crept towards his notebook which was still open on an empty sheet of paper and before he could grab it, the redhead quickly shut it and pulled it out of reach. “Don’t,” he said warningly. It didn’t work.

“Oh, come on. You know all this stuff, I just want to take a peek.”

“No.”

“I’ll be quick. Promise.”

“ _No_ ,” he repeated more firmly and was met with a puppy eye look. It didn’t suit him in the least. It weirded Gaara out, if anything. “Stop that. It’s disgusting,” he spoke unintentionally and was met with the silence of the classroom.

His heartbeat quickened.

“Would you like to share with the classroom, Gaara-kun?” Kakashi asked. “Perhaphs your homework?”

He felt eyes on his front and side. They were burning. He kept his eyes on the blond who was the cause of this and spat the word harshly, “No.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi hummed. “Then you can leave it on my table.”

His day wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be an ordinary, boring, meaningless day of his miserable life. It wasn’t supposed to give him panic attack because he felt the weight of the meaning of having a blank sheet of paper in his notebook. His homework wasn’t important. Hell, he could do it in his sleep. But admitting he actually didn’t do it meant he would be judged, and questioned and their opinions of Gaara’s life choices forced upon him and he hated this. He hated being in this situation. He hated the attention. And the most he hated the blond who was innocently staring at him like he hadn’t just ruined everything.

The fist which held the remains of the pencil in his grip kept clenching until it was white.

He could feel his blood rushing to his ears, and how his throat started closing up. While his eyes were still looking ahead, his vision clouded with dark spots and he couldn’t see properly anymore.

The mere idea of him losing control in the classroom only increased his blood pressure further.

He was going to lose it… any time now,  he knew it…

“AHH, that’s not fair Kakashi-sensei!”

The voice was so loud and abnoxious that it somehow managed to bring him back from his inner world. He watched in mild fascination how Naruto suddenly slammed his palm against the table and proudly announced, “I want to take on that problem!”

Kakashi quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? You think you can do it without help?”

“Sure I can! Just bring it on and you’ll see my brilliance,” he boasted loudly. “I bet you can’t think of a problem hard enough for me.”

Kakahi’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, followed by a chorus of encouraging _ohhh_ ’s. Before long Naruto was standing in front of the board, staring at the numbers like they were written in an alien language. “Wh-what is this? Is this a code or something?” he asked and had the whole classroom laughing.

“You’re the one who said you can take on any problem. So integrals should be easy enough for you.”

“No! I asked for an actual mathematical problem not some random symbols on the board! Come on, be serious!” he yelled out through the roaring of laughter in the room. He then considered. “And what is even an interga-something? Is it edible?”

With his breathing back to normal, Gaara couldn’t help tracing along the features of the loudmouthed blond with his eyes. He was starting to have an… effect on him. Somehow feeling in debt to the blond only made him want to crush him more. He was the one who started it, so why should he now feel like he owed him anything? He didn’t. He didn’t care. He was still going to be setting his hair on fire in the chemistry class.

After realizing how childish he sounded, his face twisted in a scowl.

As the blond finally went back to his seat, he briefly glanced at the redhead, but for some reason his cheeks had a faint of pink in them as he scratched his cheek and avoided Gaara’s eyes directly.

Gaara couldn’t understand him at all.

Turning back to face the window, Gaara tried to not wonder whether the blond did it for his sake.

It didn’t work.

It was the first time in a long while when he thought about something for longer than thirty minutes.

 

* * *

_**to be continued...** _


	3. Hot and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is sort of a combination between really light and really heavy stuff as it goes deeper into the mindscapes of those two
> 
> Naruto just doesn't give up. Gaara has a lot to think about, and it's not all pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: PTSD triggers, blood.

Fridays were more peaceful than other days at school. They got longer breaks, and Naruto had more time to spend them with his circle of friends. He usually chose to go with Shikamaru on the rooftop to watch him play shogi with himself. _Strategical planning,_ the raven would say. Naruto couldn’t understand the appeal but he indulged his friend by sitting with him in front of the board. Today they also had Sakura with them, but she was quick to announce that she was not to be disturbed until she finished the chapter on _Vascular system_ in her biology book.

After a few failed attempts to understand the meaning of the moving pieces in Shikamaru’s board, Naruto sighed and leaned against the railing, chosing to look down below to the school’s garden. His eyes sparked in delight when he saw a familiar presence walking by. Jumping on his feet, the blond grabbed onto the railing with one hand and pushed himself  upwards as he called out to the redhead with a wave. “Oi! Gaara!” He watched as his classmate’s steps faltered and then seemed to resume in a much faster rate.

Pouting at being ignored, Naruto thought of a quick way to take the redhead’s attention, when his ears picked upon the sound of pieces being moved on the board. He turned to snatch one piece, ignoring Shikamaru’s indignant protest, and then aimed it at the redhead’s general direction.

Holding his breath, he waited for the piece to reach its destination, and just as it was a mere centimeter’s way from colliding with the redhead’s head, a hand swipped it out of the way, the piece falling down on the ground.

Naruto’s eyes sparked with adoration as he watched the redhead turn his way with a glare. “Gaara! Come join us!” he yelled out again, smilling brightly.

“Oi, oi,” Shikamaru tried to get the blond’s attention while tugging onto the orange suit’s pant sleeve. “It’ll only piss him off more, if you keep throwing things at him.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Naruto waved him away dismissively. “It’s the way we communicate.”

“That’s even more concerning…”

Chosing to ignore his friend’s remark, Naruto leaned onto the railing as he watched the redhead’s back disappear inside the building, dissapointment filling him at yet another failed attempt of starting a conversation with his classmate. He already tried to pester him at every break, or stalk him to the cafeteria, but the redhead seemed to find ways to disappear before Naruto could catch him. He had way more stealth than Naruto who was a pretty straight-forward person. He wanted Gaara to be his friend, so he went for it.

“Naruto.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not my business, really, but you sure you know what you’re doing?” Shikamaru asked, his hand stilling with a piece on the board. “That kid is weird. And the rumours flying around about him are all involving violence. And I mean real, broken bones kind of violence. Perhaps he’s not the best choice to-“

“I don’t care about that,” Naruto cut him off, not wanting to hear more, his back stiff. “Gaara is Gaara.”

“Even if he has a monstrous strength?”

“Heh, I’ve met real monsters. Gaara is nothing even close to it.”

“Naru-“

“Leave it, Shikamaru.”

While he understood his friend’s concern, Naruto didn’t like hearing people badmouthing Gaara. Contrary to the popular belief, he was aware of the things people whispered behind the redhead’s back and it frustrated the blond. Mostly because he understood exactly what it felt like being at the spotlight of a hostile attention. “Gaara is my friend,” he then said, waiting for the raven to try to contradict him. Though his heart raced a little, he counted on Shikamaru to not get involved.

He didn’t disappoint.

“Well,” the raven started, scratching on the back of his ponytail.”This is too much of a drag to think about. So, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Ah, I knew you’d understand, Shikamaru!” the blond shouted out before jumping his friend. All Shikamaru’s attempts at prying Naruto off of him were spent in vain. After a while he just gave up. “You still need to find my piece, the one you threw away,” he said with a sigh, as he resigned to his fate of being clung on by the blond.

“Oi, did you hear me?”

The low snickering was all the answer he got.

***

He was having a headache.

Every time that shrilling voice called out to him, it felt like a pack of needles piercing his skull. The blond was annoying. Also way too stubborn; no matter how many death glares he sent his way, it only bounced back in double. He resorted to leaving a few seconds quicker before anyone else and rushing to somewhere quiet. But even then, he couldn’t help watching over his shoulder, expecting the loud lump of orange to come flying out of the sky. The school no longer felt safe for him.

The latest attempt of Naruto’s didn’t amuse him in the least. He could tell it was the blond’s not so subtle way of reminding Gaara of their first meeting.

He wished they never did.

As he stared at the bold writing on the shogi piece in his palm, he had to wonder why it was still with him.

“Gaara…”

Temari. Leaning against the wall, his sister looked him over, before stopping to stare for a prolonged moment at his palm. Feeling suddenly conscious about it, Gaara quickly chuked the piece inside his pocket. “What?” he asked curtly.

While she didn’t ask about the piece, he knew she wanted to. She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just wondering if you’re doing all right.”

The unimpressed look he gave her, quickly made her avert her eyes. “I mean…with the anniversary of _that day_ coming,” she clarified.

Ah. So that what it was about. Suddenly it all made sense. He arranged his features back to being impassive. “You don’t have to be concerned.”

He didn’t want to talk with her any longer. He made to pass her, but a hand blocked his path. The look he threw her wasn’t kind. “Are you _sure_ you’re handling it well?” she asked, her eyes scanning his face. Like she could tell. It was laughable.

Never showing any interest in his well being, there would come a day every year where his siblings suddenly would remember his existence. They would wonder whether he was _handling_ things well, while in truth their question was always the same – are you handling _yourself_ well. More than getting involved with him, his whole family hated complications, and his complex past always posed a threat towards that.

While he was sure nobody was aware of just how badly his mental health had been impaired, they knew enough to ignore it when it suited them. They also worked a system where on that one day of the year, they would be extra careful around him, waiting like hawks for him to snap and do something to prove their fears right.

“What,” he started, a cruel smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “Are you waiting to see blood?”

She froze. Her eyes widened as she took a step back. “Y-you… are you planning to?”

It shouldn’t hurt. And most of the times it didn’t. He learned to accept the inevitable reactions, but sometimes they just brushed him the wrong way and he craved to lash out more, getting into their heads more to prove the point further. That yes, he was as much of a monster as they thought of him.

He took a step forward. She took one back. One forward. One back. She led her like that until her soles hit the edge of the stairs and she unbalanced, flailing and began to fall. He caught her by the front of her shirt.

Even then, she looked scared. Terrified for her life. She was scared that he’d drop her down.

Clenching his teeth together, he pulled her back and threw her a little, letting her slide down the floor. Watching her tremble, he turned, his feet leading him downstairs. “Don’t get in my way. You’ll get hurt.”

***

His head was spinning.

White stinging pain hit his skull as he stumbled down the shadowed hallways. He could smell the fear; his, his victim’s – wide eyes staring at him as blood splashed on him from above.

His side hit the wall as he clutched his head. He knew the upcoming of the day would likely trigger him to relive his most painful memories of the past, but the encounter with his sister unlached that lid ahead of time, before he could mentally prepare himself. He felt overwhelmed with the flashes as they continued to assault his mind. “Argh,” he panted and felt himself fall to his knees.

_You were never loved. It was all your fault. Gaara – the name of the monster who only loved himself._

“Stop it. Stop it. No more,” he chanted aloud as he willed the memories to receed.

Then he heard them. People approaching. The casual laughter. People having fun. Friends. He didn’t want to see them. He wished for them to disappear. He could feel himself itching to throw himself at them to see what would happen. And he knew what would happen. He would tear at them. Make them bleed. And they would shout and yell and punch him and he would feel nothing but the unbearable need to make the voices in his head stop, to make the monster in his head stop.

He forced himself to stand on shaky legs. Little steps. Before they reached him. Before it was too late. He blindly searched for the handle of the bathroom, his one hand still clutching at the side of his face where the pain was coming from, but before he could open it, the doors opened on their own. A person. They were speaking to him but he couldn’t hear them from the roaring in his head. “Leave,” he ordered with enough vehemence in his voice for the person to scurry away in a hurry.

Finally alone, he stumbled towards the sink. His reflection in the mirror told him that he scratched himself where his tatoo resided on his forehead. The red ink was now covered in dried blood. It was fitting.

Another wave of images sent him grabbing onto the edges of the sink. He heaved, but nothing came out but warm air and saliva. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat and he knew it wouldn’t stop. With shaky hands he tried to find his sedatives, but in his hurry they scattered all over the sink and as he picked one brown pastel, he couldn’t help the defeated chuckle escape his mouth. They wouldn’t do him any good anyway.

_Because you’re no good._

The voice stung his head again and as his eyes locked with the glased teals in the mirror he begged for the pain to stop. Just make it stop. Finally set him free of it.

In a fit of rage and frustration he pulled back his fist and sent it flying towards the mirror. The glass shattered and fell in the sink, and the cuts in his hand finally gave him the ache he needed.

The voices disappeared.

***

 

Naruto wasn’t having much luck. Elbows deep in the trash bin, he was yet to grab the lone shogi piece, which he was sure had to be somewhere in the bin as it was nowhere on the ground. He tried asking people but others just laughed at him and stood around to watch the spectacle. “Agh, come on!” Motivating himself with images of hot pots of ramen he would be getting as soon as he was done with his search, he rummaged through the trash with a new sense of purpose.

“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just a twenty.”

Distant voices coming from the corner of the building momentary piqued his interest while his hands absentmindedly continued to work.

“I-I don’t have any…” a meek voice said, followed by a bang. “Ah? Don’t lie, you little shrimp.”

He took one second to ponder about the possibility of not getting involved, but as soon as the meek voice begged not to be hurt he was flying head first into the bully’s side, punching him square in the face before he could realize what hit him.

“What the hell!?” the outraged yells only spured him on further. “Stop picking on the weak, you bastards!” Naruto yelled out while pointing in their general direction.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” a bulky one said, an unpleasant expression on his face. Naruto had to gulp. While the element of surprise worked in his favor, he was clearly at a disadvantage against a couple of muscled jerks. Still, he clenched his fist and told the meek guy to run while he could as it would soon turn into a blood bath.

It did.

At the end of it he was sitting on the ground with bruises all over his body, and a split lip. “Aww,” he hissed as his fingers picked on the wound. “What the hell am I doing?” he pondered to nobody in particular. He tilted his head to watch over the passing by clouds. It was a nice day. Would have been nicer if moving a finger wasn’t such a difficult task.

It must have been around dusk when he finally decided to get his ass up from the cold ground and gather his stuff to go home. He slumped towards his locker, leaning heavily on it while he adjusted the combination. It clicked, the locker opened and he froze in place. He blinked a few times, then brushed his eyes to clear his vision, but the image ahead didn’t change. With careful fingers he picked a band aid packet and just couldn’t help laughing, pain all but forgotten. “What the hell, that’s just too cute,” he muttered to himself, a lone shogi piece watching him from the locker.

* * *

_**to be continued...** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. There would be more backstory of Gaara's coming later. 
> 
> I actually had the next chapter ready as chapter 3 but then realized that it would probably feel too rushed and needed a certain backstory to happen more naturally, so that's how I created this piece. The next one will be coming some time tomorrow too, if you want.


	4. The Art of Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope the last chapter didn't scare you all off lol

On a Tuesday morning, a week later, he finally managed to sneak out of the house before either Kankurou or Temari could take notice of his absence. Needless to say he had to leave the premises of their neighborhood at nearly six in the morning. Considering he hardly slept, he didn’t feel like he was missing much.

He took a bus to the southern outskirts of the town, where he knew an old pharmacy to be. He was running out of his herbal sedatives. And while he could easily get them resupplied somewhere nearby his neighborhood, it was fairly apparent to him that the herbs were helping just this much. More times than not, the herbs posed like a placebo and any other stronger medicine that he’d rather get, required a prescription by the doctor and he’d rather steal than let anyone of his immediate human contact know of his real condition.

Labeling him as mentally unstable would be easy, and he wasn’t taking any chances on that.

As the bells rang above his head with his entering of the shop, he began doubting the probability of his success rate to take the medicine from the shelves unnoticed. He briefly glanced at the clerk, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing else, and then noticed the security camera on the faraway corner, which power seemed to be off.

He sighed in relief.

Walking through the shelves, he pretended to scan the merchandise, which probably only looked like him glowering at the mint flavored mouth wash. His palms were starting to sweat and he wondering if this was a good idea after all. Forget not getting the pills, if he managed to get caught, the attention he would be given would drive him straight to insanity. He would rather bet on his chances at the railroad than live to experience the repercussions of a failed theft. He closed his eyes and really thought about giving up but then his eyes landed on the packet he had read about on the internet and it was just  _there_ and he knew there would be no other chance and… he grabbed it. It was a matter of seconds before the packet was tucked beneath the lapels of his waistcoat and with hands crossed he went straight for the doors.

He could do it. The clerk wasn’t paying him attention. He was nearly out. He was almost out, when his front bumped straight into a person ahead of him. As he kept his eyes on the floor, he witnessed the exact moment when the packet fell out of its confines inside his waistcoat and just bounced on the floor.

He stared at it, frozen in time, failing to notice until the last moment as a tanned hand picked it up and then the wide blue irises were staring at him in wonder and he never wanted to murder someone as much as him in that moment. He felt his teeth clench in frustration as his eyes stung at the sheer unfairness of it all.

To make matters worse, the blond having no tact or sense of perceptiveness at all, just casually blurted out, “Gaara, are you stealing?”

He felt like he swayed a little backwards as the words registered in his brain and then it was all kind of a blur as he snatched the packet away from the tanned hands, threw it at the corner of the dumbfounded clerk and grabbed the said offending tanned hand to run out of the shop as fast as he could.

They ran a few blocks until his lungs seemed to almost crawl out of his rib cage and he was forced to stop. He chose the shadiest alley for that.

Breathing heavily he worked on getting his heart rhythm back to normal as he heard panting of the blond. Now that they were out of the immediate danger, the redhead straightened up, and before the blond could even call out his name, growled in his face. “Do you even realize what you just did?” The flinch he got in return had never been so satisfying. “I nearly had it, I had it in my hand and you  _ruined_ it.” He darted his eyes away as he felt his eyes sting at the corners.

“I… was just trying to prevent you from doing a bad thing,” the blond muttered weakly, shifting on his feet.

Gaara could only stare at him in defeat. A bad thing? Of course, his decisions were always labelled as such. Nobody ever spared a thought of what he needed. Feeling the fight drain out of his body, he slumped against the cold wall. “What were you doing there?” he asked, because he had to know if the blond didn’t purposely follow him to torment him.

“Oh, well, I live around here,” he said and the sheepish look on his face was a familiar sight.

He gave up. Getting angry at someone who was more trouble than worth would only fuel the fire further. It was time he returned to his former self and just stopped noticing the blond. Pushing himself off the wall, he turned to walk away.

“Oi, Gaara, let’s go together,” the blond said cheerily, while all Gaara wanted was for him to disappear. He glanced over his shoulder, a disinterested look on his face. “The next time you decide to bother me, I’ll make sure to put you in a hospital bed,” he warned. “Don’t follow me.”

***

The day went by awfully slow, but at least the obnoxious blond heeded his warning and disappeared somewhere on every break. Gaara refused to think that what he was feeling was disappointment but somehow the absence of the blond only further ruined his already gloomy mood. Needless to say, nobody even dared to approach the dark aura of the back of the classroom.

It was passing onto the second half of the classes when a pair of snickering voices nearby took his attention. As he blinked, he noticed that the duo, the names of the students he didn’t bother to know, were not threatening his own peace but were rummaging through the things of the desk in front of him. His dark ringed eyes narrowed as the two discussed the possibility of implanting a cheat sheet in the blond’s desk.

He tried to tune them out by looking through the window. Even as they laughed that Naruto would make a scene and this way would get everyone out of the upcoming test for the day, he still pretended not to notice.

***

It wasn’t often when sulking seemed like the only thing he was capable of doing the whole day, but everything had exceptions and such was a day for Naruto. He was ashamed of how he reacted with Gaara and could hardly beat his stupid head enough of times to make their failing disappear, but the redhead’s disdain filled face kept creeping up on him and he just kept banging his head against the cafeteria’s table.

“What’re you doing, Naruto?” his pink-haired best friend asked from the side.

“I messed up,” he confessed and started to pull onto his hair as images reoccurred before his eyes.

“Tell me something new…” the muttering wasn’t low enough for him not to hear, and he knew it was purposeful. He whined at his best friend, “You’re not helping, Sakura-chan.”

Sighing, the pinkette placed the half-eaten toast on the plate, turning to Naruto. “Is this about Gaara?”

His pinking cheeks were enough of a confirmation. “He hates me, what do I do, Sakura-chaaan?” The moment he took a good look at the redhead, he knew he had never seen someone like that before. While it was fairly easy for him to make friends with people, most of them were part of groups of their own. Gaara was different. He didn’t seem like anyone he was familiar with; the sharp contrast between his beautiful outer appearance and fiery spirit mesmerized Naruto into experiencing what he always thought as fairy tale nonsense spoken by the bored elderly people – love at first sight. Not to say that Gaara didn’t scare him a little, intimidated him, but the overall picture of a person that was  _Gaara_ , fascinated him, and he yearned to learn more things about the redhead. Which now looked fairly hopeless because now his existence didn’t seem worthy of notice to the redhead.

He buried his head in his hands as he banged his forehead against the table a few more times. He vaguely heard his friend’s annoyed huff before he got pinched in the cheek. As the pinkette chided him on behaving unlike himself and giving up so soon, Naruto thanked the stars for giving him Sakura for a friend. Sometimes he needed wake up calls like that.

***

With mood slightly lifted, Naruto skipped back towards the classroom, hoping to catch Gaara when a sudden scream echoed down the hallway and then he was sprinting, jumping past the laying around people, anything, in order to get there faster. Because while he didn’t immediately recognize the source of the screaming, his hearing was good enough to know it came from the southern area where his classroom was located at.

Breathing heavily, he leaned against the door sill only to stop still at the sight ahead.

The first thing he saw was blood, dripping down on the floor. Then there was wailing and curses and in a moment of panic he feared it all belonged to Gaara but to his relief Gaara was standing on his two feet, perfectly intact. The relief was short lived, when he noticed that the two students that were clutching one another with another’s bleeding fist against his chest, were facing Gaara with fear in their eyes. “What the hell, you freak!?” one shouted, and while Naruto wanted to interfere, because who the hell were they, calling Gaara a freak, the redhead just regarded them calmly, and coldly said,” I told you not to provoke me.”

Chills went down his spine.

He stood frozen, watching the scene as conflicting thoughts swirled inside his head. Why? Why would Gaara do something like that? As he watched the whimpering student, he could see it must have hurt a lot. He couldn’t understand. He was brought back to reality by a pair of threatening curses. “You’re dead the next time we see you.”

The smirk on Gaara’s face was something unfamiliar and sinister. “I’d like to see you try.”

The pair flinched and scurried away, nearly colliding with Naruto as he evaded them just in time. He glanced back to the classroom, where Gaara took a deep breath, exhaled and folded a piece of paper in tiny bits before hiding it away in his backpack. Then he just calmly sat down and went to stare through the window.

Utterly lost, Naruto didn’t know what to do. He supposed he should ask what was that about, but where would he even begin? And didn’t he get the same kind of warning as the other two if he were to bother him? Was he willing to risk a broken wrist for a few seconds of conversation with the redhead? He eyed his hand warily in contemplation.

Before he could come with an insane decision, someone poked him on the shoulder. He blinked as he was met face to face with a timid looking purple haired girl. She seemed to fidget with her fingers, glancing at his face, before hiding them away. “Gaara-kun wasn’t at fault,” she said softly, and Naruto had to blink at her to hide his shock. “The boys were trying to put a cheat sheet into Naruto-kun’s desk, so Gaara-kun called them out and then the other two started a fight.” She glanced back up at him and he just couldn’t hide a huge beaming grin on his face. He startled the poor girl by slapping her shoulders several times while beaming in delight.

“You’re a good person, Hinata.”

“O-Oh, I…” the girl stammered but by then Naruto was already moving inside the classroom…only it was void of Gaara. Or any of his things. “Oi, where did Gaara go?” he asked loudly for anyone that could hear. A few sets of eyes pretended not to hear, but some less involved in the class’ politics pointed him towards the principal’s office direction.

Feeling the upcoming doom, Naruto quickly raced towards the office, and before he could think things through, loudly announced as he barged inside. “I’m the one who cheated!”

***

Gaara refused to take responsibility for the stupidity that was a constant factor of Uzumaki Naruto. If discovering that he was capable of getting into a fight for someone’s else sake, not exactly directly, wasn’t frightening enough, then the blond just had to ruin it all by stumbling on his words while trying to explain what happened with the cheat sheet and in the end getting suspended alongside Gaara.

_Why was he even bothering with him?_

Sighing, Gaara stood outside the gates of the school, glaring at the  _parental notice_  in his hand.

“Are you gonna get in trouble?” the blond asked sheepishly. A part of him wanted to make him feel guilty, but there was no point in that, so he replied honestly, “No. My father won’t even notice what he’s giving a signature for.”

As he folded the paper to fit in his pocket, he thought it was it, but then his stomach gurgled and he had to hide his will to disappear into the ground. His cheeks burned and he pointedly ignored Naruto’s prompting until he was physically yanked by his arm. The contact burned him.

“What?” he asked, irritated. The blond was looking at him with a too bright blue eyes for someone who had just gotten suspended. “Let’s go get some food.”

He was tempted to refuse, but he doubted there would be anything left for him at home, and he couldn’t really come back home this early if he wanted to preserve the charade of this incident never happening. He reluctantly nodded and followed after the skipping blond.

As soon as they reached the place, he knew he made a wrong judgement call, again.

“No.”

“But, Gaara, this is like the best place ever, you know!”

“I said no,” he repeated and crossed his arms as he stood outside the busy ramen shop which the blonde idiot took them to. No way was he getting anywhere near a place that crowded…and loud.

“Pretty pleaaase,” the blond then resorted to pleading and sneakily tried to take his hand in his own, but Gaara recoiled at his touch.

“I’m not going in that place, Naruto.”

The fiery look in his eyes seemed to stop Naruto for a moment to reconsider. He tilted his head, curious. “Why?”

Folding his arms around himself, Gaara looked away as he reluctantly spoke, “Too many people.”

There was a moment of silence where he felt prickling sensation of being stared at, then the magnetic pull of it forced Gaara to lock the teal orbs with the azure blues. He didn’t expect to find something serene in them. He certainly didn’t expect to find  _understanding_. Before he could ask, the blond was back to smiles and laughter. “How about I get some take out then and you wait outside?”

Gaara glanced at the cramped place once, then gave him a swift nod.

Pumping his fist in victory, Naruto rushed inside, leaving Gaara to wonder why hadn’t he left yet.

***

He was slow in getting back, but somehow Gaara managed to wait for his return, and when asked where they should go to eat, the redhead only answered that it should be somewhere  _dark and hidden._  He ignored the shudder that went past the blond’s body.

While it wasn’t his main choice, they somehow found themselves underneath the bridge, sitting on the plastic bags to save their asses from getting frozen. Surprisingly, as they ate together, Gaara didn’t mind his chatter as much, probably because he made sure for his mouth to always be occupied, thus preventing being asked personal questions. The blond did all the talking on his own.

He talked about all and nothing and only seemed to quiet down when the topic went to families. At Gaara’s quirked eyebrow, the blond seemed to hunch into himself a little as he sheepishly told him that he was actually an orphan. Gaara only blinked at him and let him talk. “Actually Iruka-sensei is, was, sort of my guardian until I turned sixteen but then I emancipated. Didn’t want to burden him more with my care. He already did enough.” There was a serene look on his face as he talked about his teacher, guardian, and probably life savior but then Gaara noticed a little curious detail in his story.

“Sixteen? How old are you now?” he asked and Naruto seemed caught off guard by his sudden interest in him. He wasn’t alone. The redhead wasn’t sure what prompted him to actively seek answers. He watched the blond brush the back of his head with his hand.

“Uhh, well, I’m sixteen and five months now. I repeated a year.” A shade of pink covered his whiskered cheeks, and that made Gaara wonder about another thing.

“You’re older,” Gaara stated. He didn’t know how he felt by that fact. Maybe because of Naruto’s natural carelessness he imagined him, if not younger, then at least the same age, but knowing he was, in fact, older than him suddenly gave him some growth in the redhead’s eyes.

It probably was just his imagination.

Darting his eyes back to his half-eaten food he was content to finish their conversation. Then Naruto leaned in towards him, making the redhead freeze and stare at the blinking azure blues. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he said, and Gaara weighted the pros and cons of indulging the blond’s whim.

“Depends,” he said, dark eyes narrowing.

The blond pouted but then the grin was back. “I was just wondering how did you get that tattoo on your forehead. It’s super cool!” He thumbed up towards him in encouragement.

He felt himself unconsciously touching the long since dried ink on his forehead, flashes of memories passing through his mind. “It’s to cover a scar,” he absentmindedly said. He barely heard Naruto’s amazed cheering as his mind dwelled deeper into the memories of iron gripping hands on him, the feeling of being helpless, the terror for his own life and the sheer knowledge that nobody would be coming to your rescue because your life mattered to nobody else but you.

He clamped his palm onto his mouth, as he felt bile rise up in his throat.

“Gaara…?” unsure voice asked but at that moment he already wanted it gone far away. He quickly stood up, gathered his things and swayed on his feet from too long period of sitting in one position. A hand caught him on his elbow and he could feel it, the touch of another, stronger in strength, the danger. His body started to shake and before he could have been asked more questions he shoved the blond away from him.

The blond fell on the ground hard on his back.

He didn’t apologize.

He ran back home.       

* * *

_**to be continued...**_                                             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Criticism? Anything goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Your thoughts on this would mean a lot to me. Thank you in advance.
> 
> Btw, as English isn't my native language and I don't have a beta, if anyone feels up for the task, lemme know.


End file.
